


Hard Work (as in; Thor is)

by Trash



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Modern AU, Thor is an unemployed bum and Loki pulls pints in a shitty bar but at least they have each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki hates his job, but sometimes he thinks maybe he hates Thor more. [Modern AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Work (as in; Thor is)

**Author's Note:**

> For Ella.

Loki pulls a pint for the man at the bar, tucking his hair behind his ear as it falls into his face. It earns him a harder look from his customer which he ignores, but he knows it hasn't gone unnoticed by Thor, who puts down his glass and wipes a hand across the back of his mouth. 

"Have you worked here long?" The man asks. 

Loki leans closer to be heard over the pulse of the music. "Pardon?"

"Have you worked here long? I don't recognise you."

"I don't recognise you either, my friend. It's three sixty for the beer."

The guy digs around in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a tatty five pound note, he hands it over and his sweaty hand brushes Loki's. "And how much for your number?"

Thor pushes himself away from where he was leaning against the end of the bar and approaches in the shadows. Loki tries not to roll his eyes. 

"Is everything okay, brother?"

The customer glances at Thor whilst Loki gets his change. "Who are you? His body guard?" He laughs, taking his beer. 

Thor smirks.

Pocketing his change the customer leans in again to Loki. "So...what about that number?"

Loki goes to answer but Thor is already there, an amiable hand on the customer's shoulder. He leans in and whispers something into his ear that Loki doesn't hear and the man's face drains of colour. He doesn't hang around, and Loki doesn't see him again that night. 

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Loki yells, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the bar top. He doesn't wait for Thor's response, walking to the other end of the bar to serve the people gathered there. 

Thor waits, drawing in the condensation on the bar with his finger. He watches the crowds thin out as the night draws to a close and the revellers follow one another to The Borderline, a club the next street over that stays open until six in the morning. 

By now nobody says anything about Thor hanging around, they've all seen him resolve his other disagreements with his fists, and clean up around him. He pays them no attention, only has eyes for Loki who is changing an optic bottle behind the bar whilst a colleague talks to him. 

She leans against the shots counter, head cocked to the side. Thor can't see her expression but he doesn't need to. She reaches out to tenderly brush a lock of Loki's hair from his face as he secures the bottle and he smiles, but Thor knows it isn't the kind smile Loki wants it to appear as. 

Loki says something to her and smiles, walking away from her. She turns to watch him walk, and Thor can't blame her. His brother is something else entirely.

"She has a boyfriend," Loki says as he drops the empty bottle into the bin beside the glass collection point. It meets the other bottles inside with a satisfying smash. Loki wipes his hands on his pants and follows Thor's gaze to the barmaid who is pretending not to be looking at them. 

"I don't understand. All of the well-dressed, rich bastards who come in here to do nothing but flirt with the barmaids, yet they flock around you as though you have the elixir of life."

Loki shrugs, disappearing through the 'staff only' door and returning a moment later with his mobile phone and his wallet. He pockets them and heads for the exit. 

Thor follows, quickening his pace to keep up. "Don't you have a coat?" 

Loki winks at the doorman who laughs as they pass him, and completely ignores the question. "How did your interview go?"

Thor cringes. “They said I would have to cut my hair.”

Loki shoots him a look. 

“I shouldn’t have to change how I look for a job, Loki. It’s just a job.”

Loki stops in the middle of the street and turns to him, shorter in height but somehow towering over Thor. “Do you hear yourself when you speak? It’s just a job? No. It isn’t just a job, Thor. It’s a job. It’s income. Secure income. We can barely pay the bills as it is on my wage alone. Do you really think this is how I want to spend my life? Surrounded by drunk people with no concept of personal space? Someone threw up on my shoes in the bathroom this evening, and before that someone spilled beer on my shirt. I smell like the floor of a fucking bar. And you won’t cut your hair? You god damn princess.”

They both stand in silence for a moment, Loki still staring Thor down frostily. People stumble past them unaware, laughing amongst themselves. Sirens tear past in the distance. The world could end and they’d both still be standing there, frozen in time.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says eventually, but it’s too late and he can tell.

They walk home in silence, and when they get back to the apartment Loki slams his bedroom door behind him, and Thor is pretty sure he hears it lock.

***

When Loki leaves his room in the morning he finds Thor in front of the mirror in the bathroom combing his hair. He sets the comb down on the edge of the sink and turns his head to one side then the other, proudly inspecting his handiwork. He catches Loki’s eyes in the mirror and opens his mouth to say something as a few strands of hair escape from within the bun he had secured them and he growls, slams his fists down angrily onto the edge of the sink.

A crack edges its way slowly along the sealant holding the sink to the wall and Thor chews his lip. “Shit.”

“Can you please not tear the place apart? I’ll never get my deposit back at this rate. And let’s not even talk about the hole in the wall behind the picture in the living room.”

“That was not my fault,” Thor protests weakly, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. He reaches up and untangles the elastic bobble from his hair, shaking it loose. Thor wants to apologise for his behaviour last night, but he can’t find the words.

Loki smiles fondly and steps forward. He takes the bobble in one hand and the comb in the other. “Turn around,” he says, waiting for Thor to turn his head away. He runs his fingers through Thor’s hair gently, following them with the comb. “Another interview, brother?”

Thor grunts, which Loki takes as a ‘yes’. He closes his eyes and leans into Loki’s touch, trying not to purr.

Loki pulls his hair from his face and up into a neat bun. “That’s better. I don’t know why you try to do these things alone.”

“I’m not incapable,” Thor argues, getting up and brushing himself off,

Loki nods, but his smirk betrays his insincerity. “What time is your interview?” He asks over his shoulder on his way into the kitchen.

“It’s not an interview. I have to sign on at the Job Centre at ten, then Sif and I are going for lunch.”

“Right.”

“You’re...you’re more than welcome to join us, if you would like to?”

“Do you honestly think that is what the problem is with this scenario?” Loki grabs a bowl from the cupboard and sets it down. His calmness is unnerving. He fills the bowl with cereal and walks into the living room, Thor hot on his heels.

“I know you don’t like Sif. She can be quite abrupt, and she isn’t one to suffer fools gladly. Perhaps you’re too alike?” Thor laughs, drops onto the couch beside Loki who is tucking into his dry cereal. When he gets no response he puts his hand on Loki’s knee, slowly brushes it up his thigh.

Loki elbows him. “You can’t solve all of our issues with sex, Thor.”

“I am willing to try.” Thor takes the bowl from Loki’s willing hands and pulls him into his lap. Loki’s protests are weak, half-hearted, and ultimately end in him straddling Thor and cupping his face with both hands, kissing him softly.

“I hate you,” Loki says between kisses, his lips trailing along Thor’s jaw line and down to his neck.

Thor gasps. “Don’t say that, brother.”

“No, I do. I hate you, you big oaf.” He grazes his teeth over Thor’s Adam’s apple and presses his hips down. He pulls Thor’s shirt from the waist band of his pants and slides a hand under the material, stroking his chest. Thor arches and shivers.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Shut up.”

“No,” Thor says, pushing Loki’s hands away. “You shut up.” He pushes Loki down onto his back and grinds against him. 

Loki fumbles with Thor's fly and clumsily undresses them both, pulling his brother against him. Thor sucks two fingers into his mouth and presses one to Loki's entrance, pushing it in without warning or hesitation. 

Loki cries out but pushes his hips down, desperate for more. Thor obliges, pushing in another two fingers and fucking him with them roughly. 

There's a knock at the door and they both startle. Loki can't catch his breath so Thor calls out "Who is it?"

"It's Sif."

"Hold on." He pulls his fingers out and quickly pulls on his pants, fastening his shirt. He is under no illusion that he looks anything other than shagged out, but at least his hair is still in a bun. 

He turns to speak to Loki who is struggling back into his own pants as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. "Don't talk to me," he mumbles as he hobbles across the room, one leg in his jeans and one out. He falls over with a thud as he makes it into his bedroom and is on his back, kicking his legs in the general direction of the door until one of them connects and it swings closed.

Thor takes a deep breath and opens the door to Sif who smiles at him. “I like your hair,” she says.

“Thanks. Loki did it.”

Sif nods, her expression unreadable. “I’m sure.” She looks him up and down. “Your fly is open,” she says.

“Oh, shit.” Thor turns his back on her and zips up, quickly giving himself the once over before turning back round. “Shall we?” He asks, lifting his keys down from the hook by the door.

“Yes,” Sif says, “we shall.”

***

After he signs on and gets an earful from his advisor for stomping out of an interview because he didn’t want to cut his hair, Thor and Sif go to their favourite Wetherspoons near Soho. They pick a table near the window and Thor is staring out of it forlornly when Sif returns from the bar with four pints balanced precariously in her hands.

“Jesus. I would have come and helped you.”

Sif sets them down and wipes the condensation from her hands onto her jeans. “I didn’t need your help.” She sits down and sips one of her beers. “Ah, sweet nectar.”

Thor smiles in agreement, taking a long drink of his own, but can’t seem to find anything to say.

“Is everything okay?”

Thor waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just starting to feel a bit worn out by being unemployed. I walk into the Job Centre every other week and it is crawling with people who have no intentions of getting a job. They just tar us all with the same brush, too. It’s bloody depressing. I don’t want their ninety five quid every fortnight that badly.”

“You know you do,” Sif says. “It may be a drag, but you need the money. It’s just a helping hand until you find something.” She holds her beer up to the light, watching the bubbles rise to the surface through the glass. “Has Loki said anything about it?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I know you better than you think.”

Thor nods and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache that he can feel pressing at the back of his eyes. He knows Loki wouldn’t appreciate him talking to Sif about their relationship, but he also knows he can’t deal with this alone. “Before I moved in with him he was happier. He keeps telling me he hates me.”

Sif raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean that.”

“So am I. But he truly is unhappy. The only reason he has to work so many hours at the pub is because he needs the money to support us both. And every day that goes by without me finding work seems to drive him crazier.”

“He’s your brother, Thor, and he loves you.”

“But he isn’t my brother, not really. And I worry that his knowing that will make it easy for him to cast me aside, when the time comes.”

Sif reaches across the table to stroke his hand. The sensation is unusual, so much warmer than Loki’s touch. Thor watches her thumb brush over the back of his knuckles and when he looks up he sees an expression on Sif’s face he is more used to seeing on himself – lust. He gently pulls his hand away and nurses his beer.

Sif looks away, bright red with embarrassment. Her eyes dart around the pub and she mumbles, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Thor says, smiling reassuringly, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

***

Thor can barely walk by the time he gets home. What had started out as lunch with Sif soon turned into attempting to drink one another under the table. Sif paid for every single round, so at least Thor knows he can legitimately tell Loki he didn’t spend any money.

He stumbles into the coffee table in the living room and drops his keys on the floor. He isn't even sure why he is in here. God damn, he is thirsty. But the water is in the kitchen. Or the bathroom. And he is in neither. He takes a step toward the kitchen and the floor tilts away from him, sending him flailing into the couch. 

He hits the floor with a groan and decides to stay there whilst it as least flat. He takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes, wiping the world to stop spinning. When he opens them again he is staring at Loki's bare feet. 

"Why are you down there?"

"I fell. The floor tripped me. Loki," Thor slurs, reaching out to palm his brother's ankles. "Loki, the floor fell..."

Loki sighs and helps him up. "You're mortal drunk. The floor did nothing to you."

"That's bullshit, it tripped me," Thor protests as Loki half drags him to his room. "I need some water."

"Yes, sir." Loki lies him down on the bed and disappears for a moment. 

The moment turns into a year, a decade, a century, and suddenly Thor finds himself crying. Huge tears roll down his face and soak Loki's pillow. When Loki returns with a glass of water Thor is inconsolable. 

"Please stop crying, it makes you ugly."

"You left. You left because you have no reason to stay. Once there was the bond of blood but now there is nothing to keep us together. And I love you. I love you."

Loki helps him sit up, propping him against the pillows. Once Thor looks comfortable and not like he would choke were he to vomit, Loki slaps him. "Shut up, you fool. I have never left, that part has always been played by you. You're the one who left me here like a jilted bloody bride. In favour of travelling with your friends."

Thor glares, suddenly lucid. "You moved out, Loki. You left. We were brothers-"

"We were never brothers!" Loki yells, getting to his feet. He glares down at Thor who thinks this may be the angriest he has ever seen him. "We were never brothers," he says again, his self restraint back. "I moved out because I couldn't live knowing everything I had grown up believing was a lie. I was never going to be the person our parents told me I was, and I didn't want to hang around to see how things would work out.

"So yes, I left. But it was with the understanding that you would follow. And you didn't. You left the fucking country instead. You utter bell-end." 

Suddenly, Thor gets that too-much-saliva feeling and pushes Loki out of the way as he stumbles to the bathroom. He doesn't even make it all the way in before he vomits. Loki follows and hovers in the doorway, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

"I am not cleaning that up," he says, grabbing Thor by the arm and hefting him to his feet. "Now brush your teeth. I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you when your breath smells like arse."

Thor slumps over the sink, jamming his toothbrush in his mouth without applying toothpaste. Loki goes back into the bedroom and climbs back into bed, waiting. Part of him worries Thor will either keel over and choke to death in the bathroom or, worse, sleep in his own bed tonight. 

He has fallen into a light sleep when the bed beside him dips and Thor's heavy arm falls down across his body as he shifts to spoon him. 

"You're cold," he whispers. 

"Go to sleep, brother."

And Thor does. 

***

Thor wakes up alone to the unmistakeable sound of someone a scraping the burnt bits off toast. He sits up and regrets it immediately, a road-drill hammering in his head. He groans and gets up, stark-bollock naked, and saunters out of the bedroom in search of Loki. 

He passes the bathroom and it is spotless. What time is it?

"Ten past nine," Loki says, reading Thor's bemused expression. He scrapes his toast over the bin and drops it onto his plate, moving onto the next piece. 

Thor clutches his aching head. The smell makes him nauseous. "Can't you just make some more? Surely we have more bread?"

"Waste not, want not."

"You're up early," Thor says, just to hear himself speak. 

"You're the only person who considers nine in the morning to be early." Loki takes his plate of dry toast and a mug of tea into the living room. He has This Morning on, and Holly Willoughby pulls back her hair to taste some 'special sauce' whilst everybody laughs. Loki curls his lip in distaste but doesn't change the channel. 

Thor suddenly feels incredibly awkward, and wishes he had at least put underwear on. "About last night..."

Loki waves his toast at him. "Don't. I don't want to talk about it."

Thor nods, and now is the first time he notices the kitchen table set with the nicest mis-match cutlery and crockery they own. He frowns. "Did you cook?" He asks, walking over to the table. On the bench sits a pan of pasta, and there's an empty bottle of wine dumped in the sink. His stomach lurches. "Oh, Loki."

Suddenly Loki is behind him, dropping his empty plate into the sink and downing the rest of his tea. Thor turns to him and they're too close for comfort, but haven't they always been?

"You cooked dinner for us."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

Loki scowls. "Do me a favour, Thor, and stop apologising. Own it, for fucks sake. You went out and got pissed. So fucking what? Do you think you're the first person to ever do this? I didn't cry myself to sleep, if that's what you're worried about. So if you could just shut up -"

Thor grabs Loki's shirt collar in his fists and pulls. "You shut up," he says, spinning Loki around and slamming him against the edge of the sink to kiss him roughly.


End file.
